The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-07-08
CHAPTER XVIII.

1
remained unanswered. But Mr.. Cardus,
Dorothy and Jeremy all wrote. Mr.. Cardus'
letter was very kind and considerate 1t ex-
pressed his deep grief at what had happened,
and told him of the excitement that the duel
had caused, and of the threatening letters
which he had received from Sir Hugh Ker-
shaw who was half wild with grief and fury
at the loss of his son. Finally, it commended
his wisdom in putting the seas between him
self and the avengers of blood, and told him
that he should not want for money, as his
drafts would be honored TO the extent
of a thousand year, should he re-
oure so much-Mr Cardus was very
open handed where Ernest was con
cerned-also if he required any particular
sum Of money for any purpose, such as to
buy land or start a business, he was to let
him know
Dorothys letter was like herself, sweet and |
gentle and overflowing with womanly SYM |
pathy. She bade him not 10 be down hearted, |
but to hope for time when all this dreadful |
business would he forgotten and ho would be |
able to return in peace to England She bade !
him also, shyly enough, to remember that |
there was only one power that could really |
wash away the stain of blood upon his hands.
Every month, she said, she would write him
a letter, whether he answered it or not. This
promise she faithfully kept.
Jeremys letter was characteristic. 1t IL |
worth transcribing.
"MY DEAR OLD FELLow-Your news has
knocked us all into the middle of next week
TO think of you fighting duel, and nay not
being there to hold the sponge! And l will
tell you what it is, old chap some of these
people around here, like that old~Dc Taylor,
call it murder, but that is CANNON, and don't
you trouble your head about it. 1t was he
bn taa la nj ipl n
shoot you into the bargain. am awfully
glad that you kept your nerve and plugged
him; it would have been better If you could
have nailed him through the right shoulder,
which would not have killed him, but at the
best of times you were never good enough
with a pistol for that. Don't you remember
when we used to Shoot wish the old pistols at
the man l cut out on the Cliff, you were always
Just as likely to hit him on the head or in the
stomach Us through the heart 1t is n sad pity
that.you did not practice little more, but it
is no use crying over split milk-aRd after all
the shot seems to have-been very creditable
one Sc you going on a shooting expe-
dition up in Secocpni's country. That is
what call glorious. To think OF a rhinoce-
ros makes my mouth water; would give
one of my fingers to shoot one. Life here is
simply wretched since you have gone-Mr.
Cardus Us glum as Titheburgh Abbey on q
cloudy day, and Doll always looking as
though she had been crying, or were going to
cry. Old grandfather Atterleigh is quike
lively compared to those two. As for the
office, l hate it, everlasting copying deeds
which don't in the slightest understand, and
adding up figures in which mako mistakes.
Your respected uncle told mo the other day,
in his poltest way, that he considered l sailed
as near being complete fool as any man he
7 7
with him.
a met that young fellow Smithers the other
day, the one who gave Eva Ceswick that
little brute of dog. lie said something dis
agreeable about wondering if they would
hang you. l told him that l didn't know II
they would or not, but unless he dropped his
internal sneer was very sure that | would
break his neck He concluded to move on.
By the way, | met Eva Ceswicl herself
yesterday. She looked pale, and asked if we
had heard anything of you She sand that
| she had got letter from you. Florence came
up here, and spoke up well for you; she said
| that she was proud of you, or would be if she
| had right to, | never liked her before, but
now | think that she is n brick. Good by,
| old chap; | never wrote such long letter
before You don't know how / miss you;
| life don't seem worth having. Yesterday was
| the first; | went out and killed twenty brace
to my own gun-fired forty-siX cartridges.
Not bad, ehl And yet somehow didn't seem
to care twopenny curse about the whole
thing, though if You had been there you
| would have duifed them awfully. | feel sure
| you would have set my teeth on edge with
letting them off-the birds, l mean. Mind
| you write to me often. Good by, old fel-
| low. God bless youl
| "Your affectionate friend,
| "JEREMy JONES
| "P. SIN shooting big game, n follow told
me that the top of the flank raling forward
| is very deadly shot, as it either breaks the
| back or passes through the kidneys to the
lungs or heart | should have thought that
the shot was very apt to waste itself in the
flesh of the flank. Please try it, and take
| notes of the results"
About a fortnight after these letters, adj
dressed Ernest Beyton, Esq, Postofiiee. Ma
ritzburg, Natal, had been dispatched, Kester-
wick and its neghborhood was throwR into
state of mild excitement by the announce
ment that Mr. Halford, the clergyman, whose
health had of late been none of the best pur-
posed taking years rest, and that the bishop
| had consented to the duties OF the parish be-
ing carried on by locum tenenS named the
Rev. James Plowden Mr.. IIalford was much
liked and respected, and the intelligence was
received with general regret, which was,
however, tempered with curiosity rs to the
new conner. Thus when it became known
that Mr.. Plowden was to preach in the par
ish church at the evening service ON the third
Sunday in September, all Kesterwick was
seized with a profound religious fePver and
went to hear him.
The parish church Of Kesterwisk was un-
usually large and beautiful, being relic Of
an age when, whatever mems lives might
have been, they spared neither their money
nor their thought in rearing up fitting habi-
tations to tive Diviaity whom they regarded,
perhaps, with more .superstitieus awe than
true religious feeling Standing as it did
somewhat back from the sea- it alone had es,
capped the shock of the devouring waves, and
remained till this day monument of archi
tectural triumph. Its tall tower, pointing
like great finger up to Heaven, looked very
solemn on that quiet September evening as
the crowd of church goers passed beneath IL
shadow into the old doorway, through which
most of them had been carried to their chris
tening and would in due time be carried u
their burial. At least so thought Eva ant
Dorothy, as they stood for a moment by tn,
monument to five unknown sailors washet
ashore after great gale and buried in
common grave. How many suffering, er
ring human beings had stood upon the sam,
spot and thought the same thoughtsl How
many more now sleeping in the womb Of tim,
would stand there and think them, wheI
these two had suffered and erred their full
and been long forgottenl
They formed a strange contrast those tw,
: sweet women, as they passed together int.
the sacred stiffness of the church-the ON
stately, dark and splendid, with an unrestfu
trouble in her eyes; the other almost insig
l nifcant In figure, but pure and patient o
face and with steady blue eyes which neve
wavered Did they guess, those two, as the,
walked thus together, how closely their dest
, nies were linkedl Did they know that eac
D at heart was striving for the same prize
5 poor one, indeed, but still all the world I
a theml Perhaps they did, very vaguely, an
1t was the pressure Of their common troubl
that drew them closer together in those day,
o But II they did they never spoke of il; and a
$ for little Dorothy, she never dreamed of wiz
ming She was content TO be allowed to to
along in the painful race.
= When they reached the pew that the 'Ce
!, wicks habitually occupied they found Mi.
n Ceswick and Florence already there. Jerem
!. had refused to come; he had most unreasor
Q able antpathy 10 parsons. Mr. Halford
> liked, but OF this new man he would hay
> none, The general curiosity 10 see him wa
o to Jeremy inexplioable, his opinion being tha